Been There, Done That
by GideonGraystairs
Summary: When Alec discovers his boyfriend of two years has been cheating on him, he's heartbroken. Then comes along the famous singer, Magnus Bane, who is determined to change that. Alec is wary, not wanting to fall back into the same kind relationship he's just gotten out of. Will Magnus be able to change that? AU/AH Rating subject to change.
1. Prologue

_Originally published June 6th, 2014. Rewritten version published June 8th, 2016. Unedited._

_Rating will most likely increase to M at some point._

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**Prologue.**

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The first time they meet is purely by chance. There's no form of fate toying with the strings of their lives, intertwining them with a predetermined destiny neither can deny, nor is there some meddling friend with questionable intentions forcing the two of them together. It's nothing but Alec and Magnus and a fair bit of good timing that grinds the gears to life, though a badly-aimed football might have something to do with it as well.

There's nothing notably spectacular about the day they meet, either. It's an average, sunny day in an average, busy city, and the state park is packed full of average, happy people hoping to enjoy it. The birds chirp the same tunes they always have, leaves billowing on gusts of wind as unpredictable as usual, and Magnus's sequined leather jacket is the only thing prominently out of place.

The bright pink fabric has earned him the attention of most of the unremarkably ordinary people he passes, though he hardly notices when his own focus is glued so firmly to the glittering purple device in his hand. His painted nails click across the screen at a rapid pace, practiced precision in every expeditious press or swipe, and it buzzes constantly against his palm with each new message it receives.

To put it quite frankly, Magnus is as out of place here as a zebra prancing through the arctic tundras. He doesn't visit parks often, if ever, and it shows in every aspect of his figure. It's probably the reason he's here at all - a desperate attempt to ditch the paparazzi by diverting his usual course to somewhere they'd never in a million years have expected him to go.

He could probably appreciate the natural beauty of the place, if he weren't so attached to his electronic device and his connection to all the latest gossip. There's something quaint and subtle in the way the trees spatter randomly across the open fields, well-kept wooden benches lining a dated cobblestone path and inoperative streetlights swirling as tall as the centuries old oak tree a ways down the trail. It's the kind of beautiful thing he'd usually find inspiration in, find himself wholly and undeniably perplexed by, find remnants of a time when he didn't have a fancy phone or a fancy jacket or paparazzi tracking his every move.

Maybe he'd be reminded of the home he grew up in - fields and fields and more fields with a dash of ancient glory and outdated structures doing nothing to block the view of the clear blue sky.

But he's not because he hasn't really taken a second to even briefly note his surroundings, let alone allow them to send thrums of nostalgia and appreciation through his bloodstream. He's glued to his phone and the life he has now, full of skyscrapers and a record label with high expectations and fans he can't let down. He doesn't get to appreciate natural beauty the way he used to anymore, not when it's such an extinct concept in the confines of his new surroundings.

It's something he tries not to think about, no matter how persistent the thoughts may be once the lights have flickered off and he's laying alone in an empty room.

Frowning at his latest text from Ragnor, he purses his lips and attempts to dissuade the prejudice swimming in his stomach. Just because Camille's a stuck-up bitch with nothing better to do than torment the innocent, doesn't mean all rich people are like that. Magnus sure isn't and neither are any of the friends he actually likes.

There's a new message from his manager, too, but he rolls his eyes at the sight and doesn't bother tapping through to actually read it. It's ninety percent guaranteed to be another complaint over him having produced no new songs in quite some time now, the other ten percent going to some overly petrified demands for his current location. He doesn't really care which it is - Magnus wouldn't answer either if his life depended on it. Which is probably an exaggeration, but that's totally beside the point.

There's also the small chance it's to inform him of some jilted ex-lover's recent inquiries about him, one person on a long list of other equally as forgettable people trying to remind him of a night the same as every other for him. It happens more often than he'd like - the men and women he's hooked up with showing up at the studio or trying to contact him through the people he works with. His conquests always have a better memory of their time together than he does, are always the ones who can't forget and can't move on and seek more than the one night he was willing to give them.

Whatever. They get over it eventually. It's not like he told them that it was anything more than sex.

His phone chooses that moment to light up with a call, the grey figure of a contact without a set picture displaying itself across his screen. Magnus wrinkles his nose when he notes his manager's name scrolling above the image, swiping at the red rejection button before tapping back through to some gossip magazine's webpage.

He gets a little lost reading about some internet celebrity's alleged breakup, hungrily devouring the horribly inaccurate story as he wanders aimless through the park. So lost, in fact, that he completely misses the football flying towards him and shouts for him to get out of the way. It rams hard into his shoulder, jarring his arm and sending his expensive phone flying out of his hands onto the hard stone path beside him. His balance is equally skewed, heels teetering before he collapses to the grass with a grunt.

Wincing at the sound of shattered plastic, Magnus casts a wistful glance at the shattered device now sprayed across the park pathway. He rubs at his sore shoulder, frowns as he tries to ease away the bright red imprint no doubt displayed beneath his jacket, and tries not to groan when he thinks of how much of a hassle it's going to be to get a new phone. For the third time in as many months. His manager's going to be _pissed_.

It's then that Magnus catches sight of what's slammed into him, the worn football lying guiltily to his right like the smug perpetrator of a genius crime. He hopes the vicious glare he shoots it makes it think twice about its deplorable actions, brushing the dirt off his fitted jeans and glaring harder when he notes the grass stain on his calf. He plucks himself up unhappily, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

Leaning down to flip the football into his hands, he considers gathering the ruined remnants of his precious phone before deciding it'll take ten years off his life and serve no real purpose.

Admittedly, Magnus nearly falls right back onto his ass when he turns to find a sweaty, _attractive_ boy now standing in front of him. He hadn't heard him approach, preoccupied with sending hateful thoughts towards an inanimate object, so it's understandable that he has to take a minute to calm himself down. Possibly to resist the urge to swoon as well, he decides absently as he rather unsubtly takes in the man's full appearance. A mess of dark hair, stunning blue eyes, muscles, and a ruffled t-shirt hiding the sweat that drips down his chest - he's probably the hottest thing Magnus has seen in a month (excluding the sight that greets him every time he stops before a mirror, of course).

But if anyone asks, Magnus's blush is one hundred percent a result of the sweltering summer heat.

"Hey," the boy greets, grinning lopsidedly in a way that sends all his features askew. There's a casual nature to his tone, to his stance, and Magnus can't help but offer a wide grin of his own in return.

"Hey," Magnus replies, the single word so coquettish it'd be hard to miss. The part of him that knows how inappropriate he can be, that remembers every awful situation he's ever gotten himself into, tells him not to flirt. It urges him to smile in a way that's a bit less of a leer, to laugh and respect this perfect stranger, but Magnus can't bring the rest of him to care. Besides, it's not like he'll ever see this guy again if he ends up rejecting his advances.

The man gestures loosely to the football still clasped between Magnus's manicured nails, his eyes as bright as the sky and so alive they put the budding blooms to shame. "Can I have that back?" he questions lightly, laugh lines prominent above his flushed cheeks. Glancing down at the sporting good in his grip, Magnus blinks in confusion for a moment before returning his gaze to the other man. He tries not to sink too far into those deep blue oceans of serenity, but it's hard when this guy literally looks like he just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad.

Shaking his head, Magnus shifts his expression to something more teasing than flirtatious. "You have awful aim."

His companion laughs jovially in response, the kind of musical sound Magnus wants desperately to write the lyrics to, and it sends something swooping fast through his stomach. His insides twitch, heart flinching, and he realizes he actually might want to know all the different laughs those luscious lips can produce.

Which, okay. Slow down there, Casanova.

"Actually," the stranger informs him kindly, pulling the football from his hands to twirl it between his own. "It was Simon who threw it. I told my brother we shouldn't let him play, but he insisted. Looks like I was right."

The grin that sits beneath those stunning blue oceans of sincerity is the type of smile that Magnus almost never sees - open and honest, real and bright, and so painfully genuine that it makes his heart ache for a simpler life where such a sight would not be so rare an occurrence. It's gorgeous, a reflection of the person to whom it belongs.

"Maybe now your brother will reconsider," Magnus replies with a laugh, the smile growing brighter at his brothers despite how impossible a feat it may have seemed. The guy twists the football in his grip again, glancing down at it briefly. Magnus tries exceedingly hard not to watch his nimble fingers too carefully, but he's pretty sure he fails.

"I doubt it. She's our sister's boyfriend," he explains, the smile softer now as his eyes find the shattered phone beside them. His brows hitch upwards briefly, but they settle back with a small shake of his tangled hair. "We're pretty much required to include him. Apparently regardless of the cost to anyone else's electronics."

He pauses, like he's realized something, and his eyes goes just a little bit wider before he jerks a hand out for Magnus to shake. "I'm Alec, by the way."

It's probably short for something, most likely Alexander, and Magnus wants to roll it across his tongue until he gets sick of the two syllables, but decides that's probably weird. Instead, he reaches to clasp firmly at the offered and even manages to keep his grin in place when he notes how warm and welcoming Alec's grip is. "Magnus," he offers, refusing to swoon. That's not how these things work - others swoon over _him_, it's not a vice versa kind of thing.

Alec smiles sweetly, wholly unaware as to his inner struggle, and glances over his shoulder in what's probably the direction of his friends. "It was nice to meet you, Magnus. I should probably be headed back before they think I've been murdered or something," he jokes with a light laugh, though there's a tilt to his features that suggests he's not entirely certain he still won't be. Glancing down at the shattered phone crunching beneath the toes of his high heels, Magnus decides he's not even mad. One destroyed device was totally worth this encounter, as much as his manager probably won't think so.

He's mildly surprised Alec hasn't mentioned his name, being that it's fairly unique and he's fairly well-known, but he brushes it off. This guy already doesn't seem like the type of person to be concerned with pop culture, as little as Magnus may know about him.

"Ah, yes. That's probably best," Magnus replies, but it feels like a lie with the way it sits in his throat. He doesn't want to stop speaking to Alec just yet, let alone lose the remarkable view he's being presented with. An idea sparking at the thought, his smile shifts to a smirk as he opens his mouth to continue. "Though, perhaps I should give you my number. You know, just in case I change my mind and decide I do want to kill you after all."

Alec chuckles, shaking his head like it's a fond gesture, despite them having known each other for all of five minutes.

"Very subtle," he comments, the same attractively lopsided grin as before finding his defined features. "I have a boyfriend, though."

His off-hand addition sends disappointing crashing through Magnus for all of half a second before he manages a false pout in return. At least now there's no doubt Alec's batting for his team, even if he's already in the game. It doesn't deter Magnus in the slightest, pout returning to a smirk as he scrawls his number across the stranger's arm anyway. It's times like these that he's grateful for the life he leads, prompting him to keep a sharpie at hand for the occasional fan he stumbles across.

"Well," he grins, the ordinary word sounding extraordinary with the way he practically purrs it. "Should that little situation of yours change, give me a call. Actually, you know what? Call me anyway. Maybe I can change it for you."

He drops a wink, long lashes cloaked with mascara as they sweep across his cheek, and smiles blindingly when Alec rolls his eyes at him. He doesn't protest, though, stroking those nimble fingers across the number with an almost disbelieving grin, and he looks like he might actually call.

Magnus watches him run off back to his friends until he's disappeared out of sight, gaze openly lingering on his ass. No shame.


	2. Carry On

**_Hey! Another chapter! Don't know how I feel about the second part of it, but I hope you guys enjoy it :) I've been having trouble naming the two characters in this chapter, so if you have any ideas let me know; even though the second's already got a name I think I might change who it is. Any input on this story is very welcome :)_**

**_Also, I now have new tumblr. My URL's the same as it is here (wolvesinboundary) so go check it out! I'll be posting news about my writing (when I'll be updating, questions for you guys and other things like that) as well as just random things I like, mostly about TMI. Don't be afraid to follow me! I don't bite, promise :)_**

**_Anyways, follow, favourite and review to let me know how you liked it XD_**

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_Chapter One - Carry On_

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"You need to start writing again, Magnus! This is getting ridiculous! It's been months since your last single and you haven't written one goddamned word since. I don't see what the issue is here, Magnus. You've never had a problem before, so why now?" Magnus rolls his eyes at his manager and leans further back into the furry hot pink chair he's been perched on for the last twenty minutes as the man across from him tried to get his point across. He ought to know Magnus isn't even listening. Examining his nails, he pouts at them for a second. Dammit, one of them's chipped. Now he'll have to re-do them all when his annoying ass of a manager finally gives up and leaves him the hell alone already.

"Are you done?" Magnus asks, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the man currently fuming in the lime green chair across from him. It only serves to further anger his manager, to the point where Magnus almost thinks he can see a few tendrils of steam coming from him before he explodes on him again. Really, he should have realized it's all just going in one ear and out the other by now.

"No, I'm not _done_ because you haven't listened to a word I've said! We need another song, Magnus! So go fucking write one," he says and Magnus is reminded of an angry little chihuahua barking away so hard its whole body is shaking with the force of it. Also, there's the fact that Magnus wouldn't listen to either; the dog or the man.

"_Now _are you done?" he asks, pulling his eyes away from his completely devastating nails. He gives his manager, who's thrown both his arms into the air and is now looking up at the ceiling like he's praying to some higher being, an expectant look.

"NO!" he yells, ignoring the fact that Magnus' downstairs neighbours can probably hear him. All well, it's their fault for choosing to move into the same building as a famous pop-star with an easily angered manager. They should have really known better.

Magnus groans and pulls his feet off the dark, wooden coffee table between them. He leans his body forwards to rest his arms on his knees as Magnus pins the man with a sharp look. He seems to deflate under it, sinking back into the chair he'd launched out of during his yelling session. It's a sudden change in demeanor on his part, but Magnus is used to having that effect on people.

"First off, you're giving me a headache. Stop yelling. Second, I don't write for anyone but myself and therefore _I _decide when I'm going to write a new song. I don't know why you care so much, it's not like you're short on money or anything. Also, that chair costs more than you do, don't throw yourself into it so violently or you'll be paying to replace it," he says and watches the colour drain out of his manager's face. Good, he should be scared. Serves him right.

"Sorry?" he offers, wincing slightly away from Magnus, who leans back into his chair with a satisfied expression. He knows he's an awful person to deal with for anyone associated with the record label, mainly because he tends to just say _fuck you_ to all of them and do his own thing. That's probably why this is the fourth manager he's had this year and it's only April. Granted, so far this one has lasted longer than the other three before him.

Honestly, if he could, Magnus would just abandon the record label completely and be his own manager. Then at least he wouldn't have to deal with such annoying people giving him an endless amount of awful headaches. He _could_ do it— produce his own stuff— if he could get all of the equipment and a place to put it, as well as find someone to do the recording portion of everything for him. Magnus might be good with technology, like his cellphone for instance, but he isn't good with _that _kind of equipment. Way too many buttons and switches and knobs for him to handle without blowing his brains out. Or blowing the machine up. Whichever comes first.

Unfortunately, the fact that he can't figure out how to get any of that stuff means that he's stuck with the record label he's currently contracted to. And _that_ means dealing with all these annoying as fuck people that he really just wants to screw off and leave him the hell alone. At least he can dream.

Magnus sighs, propping his elbow up on the arm of his chair and resting his head against his hand. He rakes his eyes up and down the man in front of him's body slowly, taking in his ruffled appearance. There's bags under the poor sap's eyes, his hair showing how desperately he needs a shower, and his outfit— Oh God. Did he get dressed _blind _this morning? It's horrendous, really. Who could wear that out in public?

Naturally, his train of thought then takes a sharp turn to gorgeous blue eyes and messy black hair. His mind strays to toned muscles under a white t-shirt, practically see-through with sweat. Oh wow, he'd been hot. What had his name been, again? Adam? Alan? Ah yes, Alec. Sexy, sexy Alec with those beautiful biceps and that _ass_ and— he should really stop before he gets a boner in front of his manager because while Magnus might be completely shameless, he doesn't want this annoying pest to think he's got the hots for _him._ He shivers at the very thought of it, effectively destroying any arousal he might have had from thoughts of that sexy guy he'd met in the park a week ago. The guy who still had yet to call him, sadly enough.

Apparently Magnus' gaze is squirm-inducing to his manager because he begins to shift awkwardly in his chair for a few minutes before eventually jerking to his feet. He starts to take a step closer to Magnus and then seems to think better of it and stops with his foot half-way off the ground. He drops it back down even more awkwardly than his squirming had been, eyes darting towards the mini hallway that leads to the front door.

"I'm uh— just gonna, yeah. So— write something and um, yep. Bye," his manager stutters out before turning on his heel and all but racing out the door. Magnus watches him go with a raised eyebrow and a satisfied smirk.

It really is great to be him.

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Alec is riffling through the fridge half-heartedly for something to eat when the sound of keys jingling into the lock on the door to their apartment reaches him. He straightens up, leaning nonchalantly against the open fridge as the door slams open. He winces when it hits the wall but doesn't say anything. The wall's already cracked, it's not like it really matters.

When his boyfriend steps inside, pale hair sticking to his forehead from sweat and cheeks flushed from the heat, his eyes immediately find Alec standing beside him with a warm smile and Alec notices that he looks almost surprised. And… guilty? Why would he be feeling guilty? Alec frowns for a brief second and then realizes his boyfriend will probably notice so instead he smiles again, padding over to the other man and pecking him lightly on the lips.

"Hey, I thought you were working late today?" he says sweetly, the way he usually speaks when he's talking to his boyfriend, and watches the lips he'd just had pressed against his own contort as the other bites at them. He looks up into his boyfriend's dark green eyes only to find that he's not looking back at him; staring intently off at the wall beside them. It's odd behaviour for him and Alec frowns again, but chooses not to question it.

"Yeah, we got let off early," comes the shaky reply and it does nothing to aid Alec in brushing it all off as his imagination. He's getting worried now so he reaches up slowly to caress the side of the other's face and runs the pad of his thumb along his boyfriend's high cheekbones. He turns his face so he'll meet his eyes and gives him a look he hopes conveys his love for him. It's all he has to offer him at the moment, so he desperately hopes it's enough.

"Sebastian? Is something wrong?" Alec asks softly and watches the other man flinch in return. Alec's starting to feel like whatever this is is really bad, especially because it's not the first time he's been acting strange in the past while. He'd always brushed it off as stress at being called to work late so much more often recently but it's beginning to seem like more than that. It's also beginning to seem like it might have something to do with Alec himself, if the weird looks he's been getting and the avoiding he's been subject to are anything to go off of.

He tries not to let it get to him though, tries to think of the best case scenario and not even pause to consider the worst. Except, it's so hard not to. Because, while Alec might not be a pessimist, he _is_ a realist and he knows that, realistically speaking, this is bigger than just the stress from work. It hurts to think he might be the source of a problem for his boyfriend, whom he loves more than almost anything, and he's desperate now to know what that problem is so he can fix it. He'll stand here and beg Sebastian to tell him for the rest of his fucking life if that's what it takes to—

"No, Alec. Everything's fine. I love you," his boyfriend replies, a warm smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes gracing his face and Alec smiles back just as sweetly, leaning up to kiss him again; already starting to forget the odd behaviour. Everything's fine and his boyfriend loves him.

It's all okay.

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_**Follow, favourite, review and check out my tumblr :P**_


	3. Something I Need

**_What's that? An update? Is this real? Yes, it is. I have updated! I didn't edit this one very thoroughly though because I felt so bad about taking so long :( But basically me writing this chapter was like: I shall have witty dialogue and awesome humour and- Pshhh, what even is wit?_**

**_So sorry this took so long, but I'm giving a shout out to everyone who helped me decide what Alec's career should be. I went with what the majority of you voted for. Anyways, I really hope you like this chapter and don't hate me for taking so long with it :( Let me know what you think in a review?_**

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_Chapter Two - Something I Need_

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Magnus throws his pen and the newly-crumpled piece of paper across the room with a loud groan, wincing as they sail towards his flatscreen TV. It wobbles slightly as they make contact, but thankfully doesn't tip over and he lets out a small relieved sigh before turning back to the matter at hand. The song. Or, well, lack thereof.

For reasons Magnus can't seem to comprehend, he's been completely unable to write anything recently. He's never had this problem before; music has always been something that's come easily to him. If he's being honest, like he is on occasion, it's mildly terrifying that he can't get a single word, a single note even, out to start a song. Magnus starts to wonder if it's because he hasn't brought anyone back to the loft in a while, if it's just because he's sexually frustrated or something, but he shuts that idea down pretty quickly because he's not some horny teenager.

Except he totally is.

Groaning again, Magnus throws himself out of the chair he'd been slumped in and back onto his feet. He stretches his arms over his head and cracks his back before slouching over again as he glances over at the giant window taking up the entirety of one of his walls. He paces towards it slowly, a tanned hand coming up to rest on the glass when he reaches it. Magnus stares down at the lively city below, full of bright lights and good times, and wonders when he stopped being a part of it. He wonders when he stopped going out just for the fun of it, when he stopped doing the things he loved apart from music. He wonders when his music became the only thing for him, when it became everything for him. He wonders when it became his whole entire life.

Magnus is snapped suddenly out of his strange thoughts by a loud bass thumping out of his phone, the catchy strum of completely unoriginal guitar chords accompanying it. He pads over to the coffee table he'd left the device on while he was trying to write earlier and picks it up gingerly, bracing himself for his manager's name to scroll across the screen. Magnus is pleasantly surprised when it's an unknown caller instead; at least he is until he remembers the last time he picked up a call from someone he didn't know. Safe to say, it hadn't been his favourite moment ever.

He swipes the pick up button and presses the phone to his ear with a grimace in place on his gorgeous face. Honestly, it's no wonder he's on the cover of so many magazines. Magnus is most definitely one of the most attractive people on the planet.

"Yes?" he snaps into the phone harshly, hoping it'll ward off any crazy fan or paparazzi that might have found his number. The difficulty of having and keeping any form of privacy is one of the few cons to being a famous singer. Not that Magnus doesn't like the attention, he'd just prefer to keep a little mystery around himself.

"Oh, sorry is this a bad time?" Magnus frowns at the politeness in the voice and at the fact that it's clearly not some rabid fan or the paparazzi. That narrows the playing field quite a bit.

"Who is this?" he asks, his voice coming out minutely less harsh and annoyed as before. He's running through a mental list of everyone he knows who he doesn't have saved into his contacts, noting that the voice from the other end of the line sounded vaguely familiar.

"It's Alec, we met in the park a week ago? You gave me your number," says the other boy and a light bulb goes off in Magnus' brain as he remembers the hot, sweaty, _gorgeous _boy he'd met. How could he forget that amazing, sexy voice? Granted, it has been over a week and this is the first he's heard from him. Magnus tends to give up on new people after a mere few days.

"Alec, right! I remember, your friend hit me with the football," Magnus replies, a smirk working its way onto his face as his mind drifts off into the land of sweaty, clingy white t-shirts and muscles and blue eyes and brilliant grins and muscles and black hair and _muscles_. He really likes those muscles.

"Haha, yeah, that's the one. Sorry about that by the way, Jace finally agreed we'd never play any sports with Simon again, though, so luckily you'll be the only victim to Simon's lack of any skill whatsoever in that department," Alec replies and Magnus chuckles in return, a smirk still in place on his face.

"So, you calling because the boyfriend thing changed? Or so I can change it for you?" Magnus teases, recalling what he'd said to the other boy when he'd given him his number. He's definitely not praying Alec will say he's single now. Not at all.

Alec laughs, good-natured and gorgeous like everything else he's done so far and Magnus tries not to swoon again. Actually, no. Not again. There was no swooning in the first place. Ever. At all. Really.

"No, the boyfriend thing is still a thing," Alec replies, echoes of his laughter reverberating through his tone. Magnus attempts to keep from pouting too much, though he doesn't succeed in the slightest. So much for having a hot, fun fling with the sexy guy from the park. Magnus pauses then, an idea occurs to him. Maybe if he hangs out with the other boy under the pretense of simply wanting to be friends, he'll be able to slip into those gloriously fitted jeans of his easily, boyfriend or no boyfriend. Oh yes, Magnus is the master of plans.

"Ah, well, too bad. Perhaps I can convince you otherwise with a great cup of coffee? If you're free, that is," he says, mentally patting himself on the back for executing the first step in his plan so flawlessly. He deserves an award for this.

"I'm not so sure my boyfriend would appreciate me going out with someone trying to convince me to breakup with him," Alec jokes and Magnus can hear the smile on his face through the phone. "But I am free and it does get unbearably lonely being here in this cold, dark apartment all by myself," he adds after a moment and Magnus laughs in response, shifting his phone to the other hand when his left starts to tire.

"Well, if it'll make you feel better I won't start in on convincing you to fix the boyfriend thing until at _least _our second date," he teases in return, holding back a dreamy sigh at the chuckle he gets from down the line.

"Very reassuring, though it's not a date," is the response that comes, quickly followed by Magnus' dramatic exhale before he offers another joking reply as well. Conversation flows between them like water down the lake and Magnus finds he enjoys it quite a bit. It's fun and easy, something he's always been looking for, and he wonders if _this _is what he's been needing. If this is what will drag him out of his musical slump and back onto the charts and into the stadiums.

He hopes so, he's running low on ideas.

* * *

Magnus swipes his caramel-flavoured concoction off the counter, flashing the barista a wink as he heads towards the table with the clearest view of the door. He throws one of the chairs out an plops down in it dramatically, setting his drink on the table as he goes. Wouldn't want to go spilling it, now would we? That would simply be a waste of such heavenly perfection.

He finds himself humming his newest single under his breath as Magnus trains his eyes on the door. He gets his hopes up when it swings open a few minutes later, warm air blowing into the coffee shop, but they're quickly dashed when a middle-aged woman steps through rather than a sexy young man. God, Magnus can't wait to lay eyes on all of that yumminess. With those gorgeous blue eyes and that ruffled dark hair, like he'd just rolled out of bed or perhaps had been roll—

No, bad Magnus. You're just here to get to know the beautiful boy, not jump straight to the more… physical things. Because, unfortunately, they're not going to happen so long as that dreaded _boyfriend _is still in the picture. After all, Alec seems like the incredibly faithful kind of guy. In fact, Alec just seems like an incredibly nice guy in general. Magnus would almost go so far as to say that he's perfect, what with that grin and those muscles and— Oh God, not again.

Thankfully, Magnus is saved from his own thoughts by the sight of the coffee shop door swinging open at the hands of a dark-haired young man. He breathes out a sigh of relief at that; he'd been starting to think Alec might not be coming. Granted, he had shown up twenty minutes early. Still, that's completely beside the point.

Alec glances around the shop for a minute before those wondrous blue eyes find Magnus and a smile lights up his gorgeous face. He waves slightly, in that awkward two-fingered way that most guys do, and then moves towards the counter to order himself a drink. Magnus watches in silent admiration as he leans over it, muscles shifting under a tight black t-shirt. It also offers Magnus a rather good view of his backside, but that's definitely not what he's looking at. Of course not.

The same barista who'd handed Magnus his heavenly beverage slides a steaming cup across the counter to Alec. He smiles at her, that brilliant thing that makes Magnus' insides seem to melt, and accepts the drink with a warm thanks. Magnus watches with only a tiny pang of annoyance as she smiles after him with pink cheeks and moony eyes. He prides himself in only glaring at her a little bit for that. He grins at Alec as the boy slides into the chair across from him, setting the steaming cup of what smells like some kind of coffee on the table in front of him.

"Hey," Alec offers with a warm smile, blue eyes glistening in the mellow lighting of the shop.

"Hey sexy," Magnus replies, still grinning. His voice is light and full of a flirtatious tone that Alec just shakes his head at, laughing that musical sound that Magnus really shouldn't find so beautiful. Honestly, when did he start obsessing over one person's attractiveness? Alec has a boyfriend, anyways. He should really just let it go already and move on, it's not like there aren't a thousand other fish in the sea. But, then again, Magnus does need more friends. Actual friends who don't just hang around him for popularity or a chance at a career boost.

"Careful, Magnus. I'd almost think you're flirting with me," Alec teases, his smile turning more lopsided than before, more like the one he'd worn in the park.

"I am flirting with you," Magnus replies, wiggling his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his drink. It slides down his throat in a rush of sweet caramel and he almost moans. God, he loves this coffee shop. It's like a little slice out of heaven that hardly anyone knows about, therefore meaning he never runs into paparazzi here. Thank God for that too, otherwise him and Alec would have already been swarmed by them. It's one of the reasons that sometimes Magnus really hates being famous.

"You do realize that's entirely pointless, right?" Alec shakes his head at Magnus and takes a sip of his own drink, which smells about a million times less sugary than Magnus'.

"What _are _you drinking?" Magnus asks indignantly, making a face at the bitter-smelling drink in the other boy's hands. Alec raises an eyebrow at him and holds the drink up a little higher.

"It's called coffee," he says. "You might have heard of it before." Magnus scowls at him for a second, lip curling up in mild disgust.

"Is it black?" he asks dubiously, eyeing the cup warily as tendrils of steam continue to curl out of it. Alec snorts and puts the cup back down.

"What's wrong with that?" Alec asks, frowning over at Magnus as he swirls the drink in his hand.

"Everything," Magnus replies sharply, still eyeing the dark-haired boy's beverage of choice. "Black coffee is absolutely disgusting."

"That's a matter of opinion," Alec states with an easy laugh that most definitely does not take Magnus' breath away. "And I suppose whatever monstrosity you're drinking is _much _better?"

"Damn right, it is," Magnus responds with an eyebrow raised in indignation.

"Really? I'm pretty sure I can taste the sugar in it all the way from over here," Alec teases, leaning further forward to rest his elbows on the table between them. Magnus catches a faint whiff of his cologne and the immediately forces himself to focus on the conversation topic instead to avoid any… awkward situations.

"That's not the coffee," he retorts with a wiggle of his perfectly shaped eyebrows. "I'm just that sweet."

"Oh, but of course," Alec replies. "My bad."

"So sweet, in fact, that I'm even going to ask you on another date," Magnus states casually, watching as Alec's grins widens with more light laughter.

"How kind of you, though it's not a date," he says, repeating his earlier words from their conversation over the phone.

"Is that a yes, then?" Magnus asks, ignoring the last bit Alec had said. What's the point in listening to what you don't want to hear? Much better to pretend it was never said in the first place.

Alec just rolls his eyes in response, shaking his head in amusement. He takes another sip of the horrid black coffee in his hands and then sets it back on the table, fiddling with the paper wrapped around it. He eyes Magnus for a moment, expression unreadable, and Magnus tries not to squirm under the heavy gaze of those beautiful blue eyes. It feels like they're looking so much deeper than just the surface, so much deeper than all the glitter and glamour. It's unnerving, to say the least.

Alec looks away suddenly, turning his gaze to the wide window stretching across the wall by the door, showing the street outside the small coffee shop. They sit like that for a while, basking in comfortable silence as they sip on their respective drinks and watch the people pass by through the window. Magnus doesn't know what Alec's seeing about them but, personally, Magnus is eyeing each individual's choice in fashion as they stroll down the street. One particular outfit has him cringing back in his seat, away from the horrid combination of pink and leopard print. The rat's nest that woman was wearing as hair didn't really help her much either.

Magnus counts fourteen people that pass by before the conversation between the two of them starts up again. He'd almost say it's comforting to know so few people even come to this street, let alone this shop. There's next to no chance of paparazzi showing up or crazy groups of fans with aptitudes for stalking. Magnus shivers just at the thought of it and quickly opens his mouth to say something to the man across from him to take his mind away from such horrid thoughts.

"So," he starts, "What is it you do?" Alec looks away from the window to give him a mildly confused look. "As in work. Where do you work?" Magnus clarifies with a warm, kind smile. Actually, scratch that. Magnus is _not _warm, nor is he even remotely kind. Therefore, it's simply a normal smile or perhaps even a smirk. He's not being nice to Alec; he's not nice to anyone.

"I'm a professional athlete. I play soccer," Alec replies with a smile much like Magnus' own. Or not, because Magnus hadn't smiled. At all. It was a smirk. Definitely a crude, awful, arrogant smirk.

Still, he barely even registers Alec's expression, too preoccupied with spitting his drink back into the cup. Alec, an athlete? It does make sense, when he thinks about it, but it's still no less shocking. Alec does have the build and he had been playing football in the park when they'd met, though Magnus isn't surprised in the least that that's not the sport he plays professionally. He tries to pretend like the fact that Alec is actually a _professional athlete _doesn't make him about a hundred times even more attractive than before. He also vaguely notes that that might possibly be what'd he'd always imagined his dream guy to do, but he ignores that thought as best he can. Which is virtually not at all.

"And you?" Alec asks with an expectant look, snapping Magnus out of his thoughts and right into the realization that he'd probably been sitting there staring at Alec without a word for the past five minutes.

He clears his throat and wipes away a stray drop of the caramel beverage from his chin, pushing the still-steaming cup away from him ever so slightly. "I'm a musician," he replies with as much composure as he can muster. He tries to ignore how raspy his voice sounds.

If he'd been expecting Alec to realize _exactly _who he is then, Magnus is sorely disappointed. Alec raises an eyebrow as if he hadn't really been expecting that but is none the less not surprised, much like Magnus' own reaction to Alec's career choice. He'd probably assumed Magnus was in the fashion industry somewhere, which had originally been his desired career track before he'd slammed into the music charts and gotten stuck right at the very top of them. He can't say he regrets choosing music in the end, he _is _happy with the life he has right now, it just hadn't been his first choice. In fact, Magnus still finds himself wanting to be a part of the fashion world on occasion.

"That's cool," Alec offers with the air of someone who doesn't actually know what to say because they have no knowledge whatsoever on the current subject. Magnus had been expecting that though, based on the fact that Alec still doesn't seem to have a single clue who he is.

"Very," Magnus replies with a grin, watching Alec's face intently as he raises his drink and takes another sip of it, thankfully not spitting this one back out. He tries not to smirk too victoriously when he notes that Alec's eyes track the moment of his throat as he swallows before Magnus' companion quickly turns away.

Magnus is almost certain he has a chance here now, boyfriend or no boyfriend.

* * *

_**And there you have it! Dialogue is not my forte, but I'm seriously hoping that isn't obvious. I highly doubt the next chapter will take as long as this one did! Follow, favourite and review :)**_


	4. Dying To Live Again

**_Another update! I've been struggling a bit with this next AWF chapter, so that'll be up either later today or early tomorrow. Anyways, I'm actually kind of really proud of myself for the dialogue in this chapter because, like I said before, it's my weakest point :( But I'm happy with the dialogue in this chapter so yay! I hope you like it too :)_**

**_Reviews are love, leave me some?_**

* * *

_Chapter Three - Dying To Live Again_

* * *

"Where's Sebastian?" Isabelle asks, shoving past Alec and into his apartment the moment he swings the door open. He gives her a look as she glides past the kitchen and into the living room beyond, studiously ignoring his attempts to glare her an apology out of her. Or maybe just some kind of greeting. At all.

"Well, hello to you too," Alec mutters to himself, throwing the door shut and moving through the open archway past the kitchen to where the living room is. His sister has made herself at home already, strewn over the couch with her sock clad feet placed purposefully on top of a great mound of Alec's things sitting on the coffee table. She gives him a defiant look as he crosses the room to sit in the armchair across from her. He responds with a scowl, folding his arms in front of his chest like a petulant child, to which she rolls her eyes.

"Well?" she prompts and, at his blank look of confusion, adds: "Where's little loverboy off to now?"

"He's working late," Alec replies, unfolding his arms from his chest to rest them in his lap. "His boss has been running them all into the ground lately, it seems. He's been working overtime for more than two months straight now," he offers, sighing at the fact that he's barely seen his boyfriend much at all during that time. He notices his sister frowning from the corner of his eye and wonders if she'd been thinking the same. She'd always gotten along so well with Sebastian, had even taken to meeting with him for lunch nearly twice a week. He doubts they've had many lunch dates recently.

"I don't understand why he doesn't just quit," Isabelle says with a sigh. "He hates working there and _clearly _the company's run by an inconsiderate maniac with insane expectations of human beings. Why doesn't Martin—"

"Mortmain," Alec corrects.

"—just hire more employees?" she finishes, shooting him a look that says she really doesn't care what Sebastian's boss's name is and most certainly does not appreciate being interrupted mid sentence. Alec shrugs at her, ignoring the look completely just like he always does.

"He probably can't afford any more."

"He's _rich_, Alec. Like, one of the richest guys in New York, and that's not going to change any time soon. Jesus, Alec. Where the hell have you been the past, oh I don't know, _years_?"

"I just really don't give a shit about that kind of thing," Alec responds, narrowing his eyes at his sister.

"You'd think that you would, given how famous you are yourself," she quips, bringing her hands up to examine her nails. The ruby embedded in her engagement ring flashes as it hits the light and Alec finds himself holding back a full blown grin at the sight of it. It's just another reminder of how far they've come, of how much they've both matured. A reminder of how happy they are, and how their lives have come together in the twenty some odd years they've each been alive.

"I don't play for fame, Iz," Alec replies, sighing and leaning back in his chair. It's a conversation they've had so many times before, complete with endless whining over how he _should _be taking advantage of his fame, how he _should _be going out to all the V.I.P parties around and sleeping with anything that so much as twitches, or so she makes it sound. Ah yes, his sister truly does have a way with words.

"What other reason is there to play?" Isabelle taunts, mouth curling up at the corner. She knows he hates this discussion, hates how he can never explain to her what soccer is to him. She loves to watch him struggle to do just that, and always ends up with a triumphant look on her face when he eventually throws his hands high into the air and gives up. Alec loves his sister, but she can be a cruel little witch sometimes.

"Because I like it?" he says, accidently turning the statement into a question at the end. Isabelle smirks, stretching her hands out further in front of her to examine her dark blue nails from a different angle. She's about to say something more to him, probably a thinly veiled insult full of sisterly maliciousness, when the sound of the apartment door opening echoes through the hall to them.

She's off the couch and out of the living room before Alec even thinks to stand up, his aching joints from his scrimmage with the team the other day protesting as he lifts himself out of the armchair. By the time he's made it to the door, his sister has already moved past the excited throwing of her arms around her latest victim— a gesture she claims to be a hug — and has now reached the point in her customary greeting where she jabbers non-stop about god knows what while the poor boy in front of her attempts to remove his coat and shoes without getting hit by her flailing hands. She calls it being expressive and outgoing; Alec calls it being insane and very likely to poke someone's eye out at any given moment.

Sebastian nods along to whatever she's going off about now, shooting Alec a gentle smile over her shoulder when he reaches them. It wavers just short of reaching his eyes and Alec gives his boyfriend a sympathetic look, knowing he must be exhausted from all the extra work being piled on him lately. And if Sebastian turns his gaze away from Alec and onto his sister a little too quickly at that, Alec doesn't notice.

"Anyways, more importantly, where on _earth_ have you been for the past two months?" Isabelle finishes, pinning the fair-haired boy by the door with accusing eyes.

"I told you like five times already, Iz. His boss has been forcing him to work overtime," Alec cuts in, saving his boyfriend from his sister's oncoming interrogation. Usually, this would be the time where Sebastian would shoot him a grateful look over his sister's shoulder and Alec would smile back sweetly with a shake of his head at his sister's antics. But that's not what happens this time; instead, Sebastian tenses and slides his gaze to the wall furthest from Alec. Alec frowns at him, confused and concerned, but doesn't say anything.

Thankfully, his sister is too caught up in informing Sebastian of every single detail on how she came to be engaged to a soon-to-be-famous rockstar to notice the odd behaviour passing between the two boys. And Alec just shakes his head at his sister, smiling at how happy she is, and tells himself that it's nothing that concerns him. Sebastian is probably just stressed.

* * *

Magnus stares silently down at the paper he's holding so carefully you'd almost think it was a newborn child. His eyes are wide with wonder as they focus on the words scrawled beautifully across the page, written in a handwriting no less gorgeous than it's maker. Who is by far the most gorgeous person in the universe. Well, except maybe the blue-eyed boy who'd prompted Magnus' sudden urge to write a song.

He can't quite say what came over him; he'd merely been reclining peacefully in an obnoxiously bright chaise longue, staring at his perfect black nails that automatically made him think of blue eyes as well. And then, as his mind had drifted further into the depths of Alec-land, as he liked to call it, he'd been suddenly overcome with an unbearable itch. An itch to write a song, and a good one at that.

So, for the first time in months, he'd picked up a pen, grabbed a blank sheet of paper, and let the notes flow easily from his mind and onto the page. By the time he'd finished writing the first draft of the verse, it had been clear as day to him who the cause of such a miracle was.

And now, sitting there staring at the sketched notes of both an intro and a verse, as well as a few scribbled possibilities for lyrics on the side, Magnus can't help but be completely star struck at the incredible effect one measly little boy among thousands of others has had on him. Of course, the song isn't about Alec, not at all, but Magnus knows he wouldn't have anything written of it if it weren't for him.

Maybe he hadn't needed to boot his sex life back up again to be able write after all, considering he hasn't even managed to swipe a kiss from Alec yet, but had just required something new in his life. Someone new. Maybe he just needed a change of pace in his otherwise repetitive, scheduled nightmare of a life.

Magnus throws himself hastily out of the chair and all but sprints out of his study, taking the steps to the wide open space below nearly three at a time. He launches himself over the side of the railing once he deems himself close enough to the floor to avoid breaking one of his beautifully shaped bones and races around the side of the staircase to the open area he calls his living room, paper still clutched firmly in his hand. Eyes locking immediately on the piano tucked into the corner, he finds a burst of joy in seeing it bathed in the sunlight that filters through the giant floor to ceiling window that takes up most of that wall. In fact, Magnus' apartment is probably made up more of windows than it is of walls.

Yanking the bench back from the piano and careening down onto it, Magnus quickly smooths the now crumpled piece of paper out and sets it on the instrument, hands already fluttering over the beautiful ivory keys in anticipation. Still, it's with a hesitant touch that he presses down on the first note scrawled onto the page, and the next, steadily growing more and more comfortable as his hands fly over the keys. There's a rush in his body as the notes drift from the piano, rising to meet each other and twine together to form something new, something different. He doesn't have the lyrics down yet, nothing concrete, so he just hums along under his breath or sings gibberish like he usually does to warm himself up before a show.

By the time his fingers come flying to a stop, cut off abruptly by the blank stretch of nothing across the rest of the page, Magnus is grinning from ear to ear and feeling like he's not just on top of the world, but the whole entire universe. Besides, what's the world compared to Magnus Bane? Hardly anything at all, especially after those last few bars of the song.

Unfortunately, he can say for sure that he won't be able to write the rest of it right now. He feels like he doesn't have the pieces he needs to fit together to make the music, to put the feeling it brings him into words. He feels like he's missing something, something he's always _been _missing but just hadn't known he needed before. Or perhaps he simply hadn't needed it until now. Either way, Magnus is determined to finish the song, lyrics and all.

So he fishes his ridiculously coloured cell phone out of his pocket and punches in the number he finds he's been using more and more in the past month; Alec's.

* * *

Alec is in the process of rummaging through the fridge for the billionth time in the last hour to find something to eat when his phone goes off, the loud echoes of a whistle sounding from his back pocket. He slams the fridge shut, knowing the piece of crap won't close otherwise, and reaches for the annoying device. Thinking it's either someone from the team or Magnus, he hesitantly brings it into his line of sight, letting out a breath of relief when he sees it's the latter. He _really _doesn't want to deal with the team trying to convince him to go out to another party with them, like they do nearly every night.

"Hey," he greets, swiping the green answer button and bringing the phone up to his ear.

"Hello, darling," comes the smooth reply in a silky voice full of flirtatiousness that has Alec rolling his eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you I have a boyfriend before it sinks in?" he asks jokingly, padding out of the kitchen and down the small hallway to the master bedroom. Sometimes Alec suddenly becomes acutely aware of exactly how tiny his apartment is.

"As many times as it takes before that changes." Alec can practically hear a wink in that sentence. A wink full of glittery eyeshadow and sparkly eyeliner, most likely. Probably a fair bit of mascara as well.

"That's not going to happen, Mags," he says, swinging the door open and stepping inside, flicking the light switch on as he goes. He'd almost find it funny how accustomed he's grown to Magnus in the past month that they've been hanging out. Everything's just been so simple and easy between them, even with all of Magnus' constant flirting. Alec's beginning to think Magnus can't say anything and not have it be flirtatious in some way.

"A guy can dream," Magnus replies teasingly, most likely smirking to himself in that infuriatingly attractive way he always does.

"By all means, dream away. No need to bring those delusions into real life, though," Alec teases back, grinning despite the fact that his newfound friend won't be able to see it. Magnus can probably hear it in his voice, though; Alec does nothing to hide it.

"I'm going to ignore your obvious stabs at my sanity— which is perfectly intact, thank you very much —and move on to the original purpose of this wonderful phone call."

"Which is?" Alec asks, crossing the room to reach the closet. Keeping the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he throws it open and peers into the depths of it, looking for one single article of clothing in particular.

"To invite you out to lunch tomorrow, of course," Magnus responds smoothly.

"Miss me already? And to think, it's only been five days since that _wonderful _movie we went to see," Alec teases, adding emphasis to his description of the epic failure someone decided to call a film that they'd seen a few days ago.

"Yes, I know. And yet I've already started to suffer from separation anxiety, which means I simply _must _see you as soon as possible." Alec rolls his eyes at that, reaching into the closet to weed through the hanging pieces of clothing. Most of it is Sebastian's; Alec tends to just wear the same few things over and over again.

"What if I'm busy tomorrow?"

"You're not."

"And how would you know?"

"You're never busy," Magnus notes before thinking better of that statement and adding: "Except when you are. Which is rarely. Unless your sister is in town. Which she's not anymore."

"Uh huh, but how do you know I haven't made plans with someone else? I _do _have something of a social life, you know."

"I know, and it comprises of me and your sister."

"It does not. I'll have you know that there's an entire soccer team with their numbers programmed into my phone."

"Having their numbers in your phone and getting all sweaty together doesn't actually mean you hang out, or that they're a part of your social life." Magnus pauses, seeming to take into account how he'd worded that sentence. "That came out wrong," he says decidedly.

"A bit, yeah," Alec replies, triumphantly emerging from the closet with the shirt he'd been looking for. He nearly drops his phone in the process, but thankfully manages to keep the annoying device pressed against his ear.

"Anyways, since we've now established that you're not busy tomorrow, or ever—"

"Hey," Alec protests.

"—where would you like to meet?" Magnus finishes, completely ignoring Alec's interjection.

Glaring at the shirt in his hand that he imagines to be Magnus, Alec sighs before replying, "How about Bluebird's? Do you know it?"

"Do I _know _it? What, do you think I live under a rock?"

"A very sparkly rock, actually."

"It's called glitter, darling. Get with the program."

"Fine, a very _glittery _rock."

"Much better. Now, I should be off for lunch around one, so what do you say we meet at about two?" Alec nods before he remembers that Magnus can't see him, at which point he has to fight down the urge to facepalm himself. If he did that, he'd drop the phone.

"Two sounds good. Though, knowing you, it'll end up being three."

"It's not my fault there's traffic!"

"It's your fault you don't just leave earlier. Or set the date for later."

"Date? So they are dates! Ha, and here you keep telling me they're not."

"They're not _date _dates, but they're— Ugh, nevermind. I give up."

"I win!" Magnus declares happily, most likely doing his little happy dance at that.

"Yes, Magnus. You win. Now, Bluebird's at two, right?" Alec confirms impatiently, throwing the shirt in his hand onto the bed. It's going to need ironing before his interview later tomorrow. An interview he would much rather just avoid. God, Alec hates the press and all their stupid news shows and things. Why can't they all just leave him alone and not keep requesting interviews? And why can't his manager just turn them all down? Like, every single one of them. Not just the majority, like she does now.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I know you wouldn't," Alec says, sighing. There's the sound of the dial tone buzzing in his ear shortly afterwards, but Alec doesn't move the phone away. Instead, he stares down at the shirt on the bed that reminds him of the colour of Magnus' eyes and tries to ignore the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I wouldn't either," he whispers to the empty air around him.

* * *

_**Follow, favourite and review 3**_


	5. Leave Your Lover

**_Is that a- Oh my God it's an update! Sorry this took so long guys (like two months) but if you've been reading my main story, And We Fall, then you already know I've kind of had a lot going on and had to even take a hiatus for a short while there to get my stuff together. It's still not, but I figured I owed you guys an update so here it is._**

**_This one takes place like literally the day after the last one and I'm thinking you'll like what happens here ;) Let me know by leaving a review, which I promise I will read because I read absolutely every single one you guys leave._**

* * *

_Chapter Three - Leave Your Lover_

* * *

Alec raises an eyebrow at the low groan Magnus releases as he slides into the chair across from him, slamming his car keys down on the table between them. He doesn't say anything as his friend proceeds to all but lunge for the menu, eyes already scanning hastily to find what he wants as he flags down the waitress with a vigorous hand motion. Sipping quietly at his iced tea, Alec watches on in amusement.

"You're late," he notes absently once Magnus has finally settled down, a tall glass of some fruity drink or other perched precariously on a battered coaster in front of him.

"That," Magnus replies, waving an accusing finger in the air, "is not my fault."

"Oh? And when did you leave?"

The glittery man hesitates, finger stilling it's motions through the air. "Okay," he says sheepishly. "So maybe it was my fault. But in my defense, I was really feeling the music today and it's just so hard to stop when that happens. Even if it is to go have lunch with someone as gorgeous as you."

Alec rolls his eyes but doesn't grant Magnus a response, instead turning to the food that's just arrived. Admittedly, it's not the kind of restaurant Alec would usually eat at, but the food is good and the staff seem friendly enough. Although, he did have a fair bit of trouble reading the menu— which appeared to be a mix of greek, french and something akin to latin.

"When does the soccer season start?" Magnus asks suddenly, a question that would throw Alec off guard if he weren't already used to the other man's tendency to change the subject on a whim.

"Two weeks," he replies, grabbing his iced tea and taking a huge gulp.

"That's not too far off, is it?"

Alec hums in reply, twirling his fork around in the leftover sauce on his plate. Absently, he starts drawing a face in it, eyes moving lazily around the restaurant. He's tired; he barely got any sleep last night despite the fact that he'd even downed some melatonin halfway through.

"You look like you're about to fall asleep," Magnus notes, amused. "I like to think I'm more entertaining than that."

"What?" is Alec's intelligent reply as he jerks his head up to meet the eyes of the man across from him. "Oh, no. Sorry. I couldn't sleep last night at all."

"Had trouble getting me out of your mind, darling? I know it can be very difficult," Magnus replies easily with a wink at the end.

Alec snorts. "You wish."

"I do," Magnus says, sighing dramatically. He grins, laughing brightly, when he catches Alec's eyeroll. The blue-eyed boy is about to respond when his phone goes off, buzzing loudly against the hard wood of the table it's sitting on. Shooting an apologetic look to his friend, he flicks the screen to pull up the message and skims it quickly before sending his phone to sleep again. "Who was that?" Magnus asks curiously.

"Just Sebastian," replies Alec, his tone dismissive until he realizes Magnus has absolutely no idea who Sebastian is and adds, "My boyfriend."

"So he really does exist? Shame, and here I thought you were just playing hard to get," the other man teases, eyes scanning Alec's downtrodden face warily as he does, obviously noting his friend's suddenly sour mood. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Yes. No. Maybe— I don't know," Alec finishes with a tired sigh, sinking back into his chair.

"Care to share with the group?"

"He's been working late almost every night for the past two months. He doesn't get home until around one in the morning most days and even then he's acting weird. I don't know, maybe I'm just imagining it, but doesn't it seem like something's up?"

"Maybe he's cheating on you," Magnus supplies unhelpfully. "Working late is a classic excuse for hooking up behind your partner's back."

Alec groans, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm being serious, Magnus."

"So am I," the glittery man replies smoothly, taking a sip of his fruity concoction. "Like I said, it's a classic excuse. Oldest one in the book, I think."

"You would know," Alec says, not entirely joking this time. Magnus hums in reply, but says nothing about it, which Alec takes as confession enough. He rolls his eyes and takes another gulp of his drink, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in his throat because what if…

But no. Sebastian would never do that. He loves Alec, he knows he does, and he could never hurt him like that. And if by chance something ever did happen, he would definitely tell Alec right away about it, or break things off, or _something_… Wouldn't he?

Alec shakes his head to clear it, cursing Magnus for planting that seed of doubt in his head, and stands up abruptly. "I have to get back," he lies. "Besides, your lunch break is probably almost over, isn't it?"

"My lunch break is over when I want it to be over," Magnus states stubbornly. Alec rolls his eyes again, as he does quite often around his exuberant new friend, but reaches into his back pocket for his wallet anyway. Drawing out enough bills to pay for his meal and leave the waitress a significant tip, he tosses them onto the table and shoves the leather object back into his pocket.

"Well, I'm going to go. Thank you for that enlightening conversation," he offers sarcastically, already moving to head towards the door.

"If you must." Magnus sighs loudly, standing up as well to match Alec's height. "Can I at least have a hug?" he inquires, flashing his friend innocent eyes and opening his arms up wide.

Alec snorts. "Fine," he amends, stepping forward to curl an arm around Magnus's torso. The musician, however, seems to have other ideas, judging by the way he wraps around Alec like an octopus, drawing them flush together, and refuses to let go.

"Mmm," Magnus hums dreamily. "You have muscles."

Slapping him away with a stern look, Alec replies, "I also have a boyfriend. You know, the one you just suggested might be _cheating _on me."

At least Magnus has the decency to look sheepish. "Right," he says. "Sorry about that. No harm done, though, right? I mean, he's obviously not because who in their right mind would cheat on _you_?"

"You, probably," Alec teases back, watching in amusement as Magnus offers an offended gasp and clasps a dramatic hand over his heart.

"I would never! On anyone!"

"Because you've _never_ done it before."

"Well… maybe once or twice. Or a few times. Maybe like five. A dozen, tops."

Laughing, Alec wraps a steady hand around Magnus' bicep. "I really do have to go, Magnus. But I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Fine," Magnus caves stubbornly, pouting as Alec slips past him to head for the door. "You look hot, by the way!" he calls out after him, voice loud in the quiet of the restaurant. Alec catches a few of the diners turning to look at them, but pays them no mind.

"Goodbye, Magnus!" he throws back, stepping through the door and out into the humid April air beyond. Raising an arm up to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of sunlight, Alec pulls his phone out to read over the message again.

**3:46: **_Won't be home till two tomorrow morning. Don't wait up_

Alec frowns, noting the lack of an 'I love you" at the end as well as the seeming formality of the whole message. It's not like Sebastian, which admittedly isn't actually all that unusual as of late, and it worries him. Because maybe—

No. Alec refuses to even consider the possibility for a second more. Sebastian loves him, it's not even remotely possible that he would ever do that.

_Isn't it?_

* * *

"I already told you, mom. The answer's no." Alec lets out a frustrated noise, balancing his cellphone between his shoulder and his ear as he forces his key into the lock. It takes five tries before the door swings open and he can finally step into his apartment, silently cursing ever having moved here in the first place. Sebastian had been the one who wanted it, who had decided it was perfect for them, and as per usual Alec had put up no fight on the matter, content to let his boyfriend have what he wanted.

Now, Alec wishes he had raised a shitload of hell about it.

"Your siblings are going," his mother informs him through the speaker in his battered old phone, her voice easily read as scolding and pretentious.

"That's great. Still not going to go." Frowning as he steps into the kitchen, Alec starts in on the pile of dishes left sitting in the sink, most likely all Sebastian's. His boyfriend has a tendency not to bother cleaning up after himself when he's tired and Alec knows he's been exhausted lately from all the overtime he's been clocking in for the past two months.

His mother makes a frustrated sound, not unlike Alec's previous, and he can easily picture her throwing her hands into the air as though asking the heavens how she raised such stubborn children. "It's one dinner, Alec. It's not going to kill you."

"That's debatable," Alec replies absently, pulling a cloth out of the drawer to dry the now clean dishes with.

"I haven't seen you in nearly four months. Couldn't you at least do this much for me?" his mother sighs tiredly. She must already be aware that she's lost, though, God knows she's dealt with him long enough to be able to tell when he's not going to budge.

Alec throws the stack of dishes haphazardly into the cupboard, pausing for a second after closing it when he hears a crash. Deciding against checking it out, he moves through the kitchen door again and into the living room. "I'll go next month."

"That's what you say every month." He sighs heavily, shifting the phone from one ear to the other, his eyes flitting around the room before settling on the stack of mail sitting on top of the coffee table. Stepping forward, he picks it up and throws himself down into one of the sofa chairs surrounding the TV.

"Come on, mom. You know it's not my thing," he replies, his voice sounding admittedly whiney even to his own ears. Scowling, he flips through the mail and ends up throwing half of it into the trash, the majority of which comprising of advertisement flyers and promotional offers. He really does hate that they're still getting these, especially after having told the post office to stop including them.

"And soccer isn't my thing, but you don't see me complaining about all these events I attend on a weekly basis in regards to it," she throws back, sounding stern and reprimanding. And while Alec knows he's already won this battle, he also knows he's just succeeded in offending her.

"Sorry," he says carefully. "You know I appreciate it."

Here, Alec can picture her rolling her eyes at him in that manner he seems to have inherited from her. "You better." There's a scramble on the other end then in which Alec can make out his sister's irritated voice and his mother's equally patient one, both flying back and forth between each other as an argument stretches down the line to Alec, who catches the odd word here and there before tuning it out completely once he realizes it's about some article of clothing or other. The usual with Isabelle, then.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Your sister's having trouble finding something and I'd rather she didn't tear the whole house apart in her search, so I'm going to go help her look. I love you," his mother says to him eventually, sounding much less patient now and far more exasperated. Alec hums, paging through the letters in his hand until he settles on one addressed to his boyfriend.

"I love you too, mom," he says absently, tearing the paper envelope open with one hand as he presses the end call button with the other. Pulling out the letter inside, a thin piece of obnoxiously white paper bearing the red and black logo of Mortmain Industries, Alec skims over the paycheck half-heartedly, wanting to make sure the numbers are all right as he usually does. They always are —Mortmain never makes mistakes when it comes to money— but it's an old habit Alec has never really bothered to shake.

Except, the number isn't right this time.

Frowning, Alec reads it out loud slowly, wanting to make sure he hadn't just mixed the numbers together in an odd way. He's done it before, on multiple occasions even. But, to his surprise, he had read it right the first time.

Only, that couldn't possibly be right because there should be at least another zero on there with all the extra hours Sebastian has been working and Mortmain has never had trouble adding the overtime hours to paychecks before, back when Sebastian wasn't pulling them in nearly every night when he was supposed to be—

_Maybe he's cheating on you._

Alec freezes, clutching the paper in his hands so tight it digs into his skin and leaves thin slices in it's wake, before he lets it fall to the ground in favor of dropping his head into his hands. It's okay, he tells himself. There's probably another explanation for this, a perfectly reasonable one that doesn't imply his boyfriend of years has been cheating on him for _two months and he hadn't even noticed._

As if on cue, the sound of the apartment door swinging open draws Alec out of his thoughts. There's a thud as Sebastian removes his boots, no doubt dropping them carelessly far away from the shoe mat. Alec doesn't move other than to stand, doesn't step out into the hallway to greet his boyfriend with love and comfort and understanding as he always has before because he _can't_. He just needs to know what's going on.

"I'm home!" his boyfriend calls into their shared apartment, his footsteps pounding down the hall as he moves closer to where Alec stands motionless in the middle of the living room. He hears him pause by the kitchen, probably peeking through to check for Alec. "Mortmain decided he didn't need me to work late tonight after all."

He knows Sebastian can tell something's wrong the second he steps into the living room because his entire body tenses up, his face going carefully blank. "Alec? Is there something the matter? I thought you'd be happy."

He can't even grace his boyfriend with a reply to anything he's said though because his mind keeps turning Magnus' words over inside of it, the single sentence clawing at his heart and his brain and his soul no matter how hard he tries to dispel it with the reassurance that Sebastian _isn't like that, damnit. _"Where have you really been going?" The words leave his mouth in a rush of harshness and anger and hurt and he can see the way his boyfriend's face flickers through a change that's gone so fast he doesn't have time to read it.

"What are you talking about, Alec?" he asks, his voice careful as his gaze settles on Alec's nose, unable to quite reach his eyes.

Holding up the payment slip in his hands, Alec fumes in a terrifyingly even voice, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You haven't been working overtime, Sebastian. So just where the _hell_ have you been going?"

The other man flinches back, his eyebrows drawing together in a pleading look as he opens his mouth, the lies he's been telling for months now falling reflexively off his tongue. "Mortmain must have messed up the payment. I'll talk to hi—" Sebastian must notice the change in Alec's expression, the horror of realization and unimaginable hurt wallowing in his eyes, coming together in a pool of deep blue, because he cuts himself off and goes silent, staring at his boyfriend with a terrified look like he really might lose Alec right now.

Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, Alec is the picture of barely concealed rage. "Where have you been going?" he repeats slowly, an awful storm raging behind the words.

Sebastian doesn't answer for a long while, his dark green eyes pleading with Alec to just let it go, leave it be, forget this ever happened so they can both go on pretending nothing's gone terribly wrong here. But he's always had a knack for being able to read Alec like the back of his hand and he's known him long enough to realize that he can't forget things just like that, can't just let it go.

His voice is so, so very quiet when he finally speaks that Alec would have missed it he hadn't already known what he was going to say. "I was with someone."

Clenching his fists tight around the paper in his hand, Alec squares his shoulders and starts to step past the other man. "Well," he says coolly, "I guess that settles it then. I'll be leaving now, if you don't mind."

Sebastian whirls, reaching out for Alec just as he slips into the hallway and grabbing hold of his bicep in a desperate grip. "Please, Alec, don't go," he begs, his eyes wide and fearful as it hits him just how bad what he's done is. "I love you, please. Please stay. Don't—" His voice catches, tears he's trying hard not to shed sticking it to his throat. "Don't leave me. I need you."

Wrenching his arm free from the other's grip, he storms into the bedroom without a word and quickly pulls his travelling bags from out of the closet. They're already half packed in preparation for the start of the soccer season, so it doesn't take long for him to clear out the bedroom of his things and move onto the rest of the apartment. His betrayer stands silent through it all, allowing himself to be shoved out of the way as Alec moves past, watching the relationship he's just ruined walk right by him like he doesn't mean a thing.

Because he doesn't, not anymore. Not in that way. No, what he means now is hurt and betrayal and failure and distrust and a broken heart and everything Alec has tried so hard his whole life to avoid.

He slams the door open, the rage still fresh in his mind, but pauses just outside the apartment. Turning back to look at his now ex-boyfriend, Alec scowls darkly, a painful look Sebastian will never forget resounding angrily through his once loving blue eyes and he's crying, he is, because how could he screw things up so bad and this is happening too fast and maybe if Alec would just let him talk, just wait, he could fix this, but his boyfriend is impulsive and so very, very hurt and—

"Go to hell, Sebastian," Alec growls, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to shake the wall.

* * *

_**I mean, I don't know about you but I'd be pretty freaking pissed if someone I'd been with for years had been cheating on me for two months and didn't say anything. Naturally, Alec will eventually have time to process and move from anger to hurt but for now he's just incredibly pissed off. Let me know what you thought?**_


	6. What You Wanted

**_On the brightside, this one took less time than the last one? Please don't kill me. But anyway, I leave in an hour for Mexico so I set myself a deadline for this chapter and forced myself to have it done and posted before I left. So here you are! This one gets a little hurt/comforty during the first bit there, after what happened in the last chapter, but it goes back to being relatively light-hearted with the appearance of a certain glittery king of sass. The second scene was inspired by a short story from The Bane Chronicles, in case you were wondering. Enjoy!_**

* * *

_Chapter Five - What You Wanted_

* * *

"Trouble in paradise?" Alec groans at his brother's familiar choice in words, his mind automatically going back to his conversation with Magnus earlier that day, back before everything went to shit.

"Shut up," he snaps harshly at Jace, too tired and hurt and lost and _angry _to put up with his brother's antiques as he usually would. He does take note of the shift in the blond's expression, though, the concern flickering in under the carefree exterior he's so used to seeing, as well as just the tiniest bit of hurt. It makes him pause, heaving an exhausted sigh, and turn his voice into something less hurtful. "Look, can I just stay here for a while?"

The question quite obviously takes Jace aback, if the way his eyes go wide in shock and he lets the door to his house swing open all the way, his hand unable to retain it's grip on the dark cherry wood is anything to go by. "What…" he trails off, his voice tilting into an unasked question he can't quite find the words for, and he stares at Alec silently for a moment, probably trying to gather his thoughts. He must deem it better not to ask, Jace never having been one who's good at discussing feelings or really anything serious for that matter, because eventually he just nods and steps onto the porch to grab Alec's bag for him and lug it inside.

There's a silence that chokes the air between them as they make their way down the hall to toss Alec's things on the bed in the only guestroom Jace has, a silence that suffocates them both as they stand awkwardly in the middle of the room afterward, neither quite knowing what to say. Alec doesn't want to talk about it, to re-live it, but he also feels a burning urge to rant to someone, to have his brother share in his rage and make it feel much more rightful. And Jace, well Jace has absolutely no fucking clue what to do here because when was the last time he'd ever seen Alec look so angry?

"Do you, uh, want to talk about it?" he asks him, shoving his hands awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans. Alec shoots him a vicious glare that says he very much does not, which Jace takes as his cue to slip out of the bedroom and away from the steaming ball of anger and hurt feelings that is his brother. At first, Alec just stares after him in stony silence, feeling like maybe he should have said something. Eventually he moves on from that with the firm conviction that Jace wouldn't understand anyway, being that he'd never much been one for sticking with just one girl at a time before Clary came along.

He rips his suitcase open with probably a little too much force, the zipper making a protesting noise as it's nearly ripped off its tracks, and begins throwing his clothes into the empty dresser as quickly and messily as possible. It's not until he's done that, his fingers meeting the hard bottom of the case with no more fabric to cover it, that he realizes he's started to cry. The tears are hot as they drip down his cheeks, like liquid fire burning the reality of his situation into his skin.

It's hard, sitting back on the bed and fully beginning to process what's happened. He realizes that he really should have noticed what was going on so much sooner, should have known his boyfriend of _two years _wasn't just held up at the office all hours of the day. He should have seen the distance Sebastian had been building up between them slowly but surely. He shouldn't have been stupid and gullible enough to believe him when he told Alec that he was working overtime. He should have listened closer, seen the signs, shouldn't have let himself be so blinded by his love for the other man. He shouldn't have trusted him in the first place.

In retrospect, that's probably what's weighing on him the most. He'd known from the start what kind of person Sebastian had been, the kinds of things he'd done. He'd known about the minor criminal record and the hordes of betrayed lovers he'd left crawling after him with broken hearts and angry ideas for revenge. He'd known about Sebastian's fear of commitment, about how hard it was for him to love people. He'd known exactly who he was and yet he'd still let himself get dragged into this without putting up even the smallest fight.

He'd known and yet he still hadn't seen this coming. God, Alec's so stupid for ever having trusted him, for ever having loved him. He's even stupider for still having those feelings for him, even when his heart feels like someone's took a bulldozer to it and his face is burning with tears he hadn't wanted to cry.

There's a knock on the door, but it doesn't open. Instead, Alec hears his brother call out from the other side, "I'm going out, don't bother waiting up for me!" and then the padding of footsteps on hardwood floor before the front door is opened and slammed shut. Sighing, Alec shakes his head to rid himself of his previous thoughts and rubs at his eyes to clear away the tears. He liked the anger better, if he's being honest.

The next interruption in his increasingly morbid thoughts comes in the form of his ringing phone. He groans, slams a hand over his face, and fumbles for the infernal device where he's eighty percent sure he threw it onto the bed beside him.

"Yeah?" he snaps when he finally manages to locate it, his voice sounding hoarse and reproachful even to his own ears.

The response that follows his completely welcoming greeting is silky and smooth, tingling with amusement in every syllable. "And here I thought you'd be ecstatic to hear from me. Do you not love me anymore?"

Welcoming the distraction from his earlier thoughts, Alec resolves himself to act like nothing has happened. Like Magnus hadn't been one hundred percent right about the boyfriend Alec knows he wishes he didn't have. Well, Magnus has got his wish now; he and Sebastian will not be getting back together at any point in the next thousand years if he's got anything to say about it. "I hate to break it to you, but I've never really loved you, Magnus."

"You mean you've been lying to me this whole time? Ouch, my heart. I don't think I can take this horrible truth, Alec." And yeah, okay, so maybe this line of conversation is sending some pretty painful pangs through his heart at how much it reflects the situation he's suddenly found himself in. Maybe he feels like he's having a little trouble breathing right now, too, but there's no way he's going to tell Magnus what happened. Not yet, anyway. Maybe once he's had the time to actually come to terms with the fact that the man he's been in love with for the past two years has been stabbing him in the back for half of that.

"I know, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't lie to you anymore. I think it's for the best that you know."

"Is there someone else? Is that what this is about? Because, darling, I can be anyone you want me to be. No need to run off with some skank from the ghetto, baby."

"I don't even want to know why that's the first kind of person you came up with," Alec throws back in a teasing tone, though there's a constricting feeling in his chest now at the fact that Magnus is so scarily close to what's really happened. In fact, he's pretty much dead on.

_Oh, screw it_, Alec thinks. "Sebastian was cheating on me."

There's a pause where Alec waits for Magnus to tell him he told him so or, more likely, to immediately jump on the opportunity to ask him out based on the— admittedly correct— assumption that this means they've broken up. Neither of those two things happen, however, and Alec is left wide-eyed and feeling unbelievably warm at what Magnus actually responds with.

"Shit, Alec. I'm so sorry. You don't deserve that."

Alec laughs, though he's not exactly sure why, and lets the words sink in for a minute. "Yeah," he replies eventually, a half-smile ghosting across his face. "He's a jackass."

"The reigning king of jackasses," Magnus affirms sincerely and Alec can easily picture the look on his face as he says it. Granted, he probably has about ten thousand percent more glitter on now than Alec is picturing him with. Alec's imagination is a little too lacking to ever work up an accurate of the walking rainbow that is Magnus.

He decides to go with a safe subject change that won't force him to think about things he'd much rather cram into the back of his mind to be taken out only when he's found himself a suitable weapon to demolish them with. "Did you call just to chat or…?"

"Oh, right!" Admittedly, the excitement in Magnus's voice is mildly terrifying to Alec. It usually means he's had an idea that he thinks is brilliant, but is actually a truly terrible notion that should never _ever _be thought of again. "So I have a concert on Tuesday, right?" Alec grunts in acknowledgment, still fearing whatever Magnus has thought up this time. "Well, darling, I was calling to ask if you'd like to come join me. Not on stage, of course. But as my super sexy plus one."

"Magnus, I don't think people have plus ones at concerts."

"Oh, hush now. You're ruining my beautiful and eloquent choice of words."

"'Super sexy' is eloquent?"

"It is the most eloquent thing to ever be eloquent, my dear."

"Oh, wow, I stand corrected."

"You close your very attractive mouth, mister," Magnus responds with mock anger before they both break out into light laughter. Sobering quickly, he adds, "So is that a yes?"

"Where did you say it was?" Alec inquires, running a hand through his hair and turning his head to glance in the mirror. He looks like he's just been having sex, which is not a good thing no matter how certain he is that Magnus would love it. Frowning, he makes to flatten the unruly raven locks, but it's to no avail. Apparently his hair is just as stubborn as he is, refusing to budge an inch form its embarrassing style no matter how hard he pats at it. Curse his parents for passing down thick hair to their children.

"Webster Hall. I figured I'd start you off small before I invited you to Madison Square Garden. I know how you hate crowds."

Alec laughs, not entirely certain whether or not Magnus is joking about the Garden, and decides he could probably use a night out in the wake of his love life falling to pieces. It helps that Magnus is attractive and interested in him, though Alec resolves himself not to get involved there because he's had years of coaching on bad relationship practice from both of his siblings. Rebounds are not acceptable when the other person involved is actually your friend.

"Alright," he offers eventually. "Text me the time and where to meet you."

"About that," Magnus drawls slowly, as if he's somewhat afraid of Alec's reaction. "We should probably meet up someplace other than the actual concert so as to avoid you being ambushed by rabid fans while trying to get in. Speaking of, we'll need to sneak in through the back and probably have a bodyguard with us. Just in case. And also, if you see a camera, just run. Unless you want to be all over the headlines as my lover or something equally unfavourable to your reputation. And you should also probably just stay backstage so the fans don't kill you for knowing me when you join their masses. You know, just as a precaution."

To say Alec's mildly concerned at this point would be an understatement. All well, it's probably too late to back out now. Besides, it'll be fun. Maybe. Hopefully. If the rabid fans don't kill him. And the media doesn't catch wind of his relation with Magnus and twist it into something it's not. And he doesn't get ambushed. And—

Oh God, he should have asked sooner just how famous Magnus is exactly.

* * *

Camille slams the door in his face when he tells her he's finally scored a somewhat date with Alec. He whimpers like a very attractive, very glittery, kicked puppy and knocks again, even though he knows she's too much of a huge meanie to open the door back up.

"_Camille_," he whines. "I have to tell someone all the details!"

"No!" she calls back firmly, sounding much further away from the door than he'd hoped she'd be. "I am _not_ going to hear about your sex life again, Magnus. I know too much already, thank you very much. More than I ever wanted to know."

"But Camille, we haven't even _had _sex!"

"I didn't want to know that either!"

He makes a pitiful, wounded noise in the hopes of guilt-tripping her into letting him in, before turning away with a heavy, admittedly over-dramatic, sigh. The dredge back to his loft is a long one, especially with his friend's great betrayal ringing so freshly through his impossibly intelligent mind. Doesn't she understand how much he needs to talk to someone right now?

Admittedly, it's easy to see why she doesn't. The last time he'd forced a discussion of his love life onto her, she'd ended up at the toilet retching for two days straight and unable to sleep for a week. She still has yet to look at him the same, though Magnus thinks it's hardly his fault his partner at the time was much more adventurous than she'd ever considered possible before. Still, Magnus feels horribly betrayed by her turning him away in this great time of need.

He calls Catarina next, who hangs up the second he mentions a boy, and then whines to his cat about his poor choice in friends for two hours before moving on to the next person on his list. Ragnor, at least, doesn't hang up in the first minute.

"Magnus? Are you dying? Is that why you're calling? Is Cat sick again? Is your career going down the drain because of some bad press? Oh my God is _Camille's_? Wait, is this about hooking up with Woolsey again? You know that never goes well, Magnus. I don't understand why you keep doing it; in both senses of the word."

Magnus rolls his eyes at his friend. "No, Ragnor, everything's fine there. I am, however, very hurt at the way your tone seems to imply that Camille's career is more important than mine."

"Come on, you know I love you, Mags. She's just more successful than you at the moment."

"I resent that statement, _Rags_—"

"Don't call me that."

"— and I'll have you know that I am just as successful as she is. Just because I'm on CDs and not movies, doesn't mean my career isn't just as important as hers. But anyway, that's not why I called."

Ragnor sounds horribly reproachful now, so much so that it truly wounds Magnus's tender soul to its very core. "Then why, might I ask, _did _you call?"

"You remember that sexy soccer player I was telling you about, right?" Magnus starts in carefully, picking his words with great precision so as to avoid the same outcome he'd received from both his female friends.

"Oh God, if this is about your sex life, I don't want to hear it. In fact, I think I'm going to hang up now."

"What? No! It's not about my sex life! We're not even having sex! We're not even _dating_! Ragnor? Ragnor! Don't you dare—" The line goes dead, beeping mockingly in his ear as Magnus glares at Chairman Meow. Really, his friends are such horrible people. Why don't they want to know about his love life? He's listened to his fair share of tragic— and disgusting, in some cases— tales of romance on their behalf plenty of times before, so why won't they do the same?

Honestly, Magnus's friends can be so selfish sometimes.

* * *

_**There we have it. I will try to take a lot less time with the next one, I promise, but I'll be gone for two weeks and only able to write things by hand so there's no guarantee I'll actually get anything done while I'm in Mexico. Mainly because I can't write as fast as I type and my hand cramps up and I'm a fan of doing things the easy way. Also, sorry this one isn't as long as the others have been. I just felt like this was a good place to end it. Anyway, let me know what you thought?**_


End file.
